Milord
by Arixa23
Summary: An anonymous Russian Bars performer tries to talk the lyra artist out of love-induced depression in what is quite possibly the weirdest songfic ever. Le Sillon des Reves.


_Je vous connais, milord_

_Vous ne m'avez jamais vue_

_Je ne suis qu'une fille du port,_

_Qu'une ombre de la rue..._

Of course you don't know me. You've never had a moment for anyone but yourself, up there on your hoop high above the ground, sinuous and sexual and full of self-confidence, with nothing to prove to anyone, because you knew, you knew we'd all submit to you the moment you came near enough to touch us - the men backed out of the way, the girls fell at your feet. Oh, and when we didn't... You even tried to teach Tapage his lesson, you bastard, but he didn't learn, did he. ...He never learns, really. But then, neither do you.

I'm sorry. I'll stop being so acidic. I didn't invite you in to spit at you.

_Pourtant je vous ai frôlé_

_Quand vous passiez hier_

_..._

_Vous marchiez en vainqueur_

_Au bras d'une demoiselle_

_Mon Dieu! Qu'elle était belle_

_J'en ai froid dans le coeur..._

_We_ all know her, you know. Well, it's not really a we, I guess, I'm not even part of we. But anyway, everyone knows what she is. Sandara. The Charmer, we call her. She's _byeautiful,_ isn't she? Middle-Eastern, golden, talented, just like you, and you thought you'd be a perfect pair. Oh, yes, golden charmers both of you.

_Laissez-vous faire, Milord_

_Et prenez bien vos aises,_

_Vos peines sur mon coeur_

_Et vos pieds sur une chaise..._

...I'm sorry.

I know what a broken heart feels like too.

But please stop looking at me with those wounded-animal eyes.

Do you mind if I get a little closer?

_Il fait si froid, dehors..._

It's kinda cold out there.

Oh, shit, what am I doing? You must be freezing. Do you even have a shirt? You're an idiot - but here, take my coat. It's probably a little small, but it's better than nothing.

Nah, it's fine. Take it.

Yes, I'm a priest too. See what I mean about you not knowing anything about us?

But listen.

_Dire qu'il suffit parfois_

_Qu'il y ait un navire_

_Pour que tout se déchire_

_Quand le navire s'en va..._

_Il emmenait avec lui_

_La douce aux yeux si tendres_

_Qui n'a pas su comprendre_

_Qu'elle brisait votre vie..._

She didn't know that your heart could be broken. She didn't know that you _were_ vulnerable. And yes, you are, aren't you? Sitting there in the corner with your hands around your knees wearing a little girl's coat.

Your eyes remind me of the Mage's. No, not because they're black - you both have that animal look. Jeez, you're kind of scaring me now, actually.

Sorry. Where was I.

She went away because she makes her own way. That's Sandara. She figures out her own life. Like I said, she didn't think you would care.

But... you'd never been in love before, had you? All the preening, all the showing off, it was just posturing, demonstrating your act. Love is something different from art. Like me - I'm somebody on the bars, but nobody even recognizes me off of them.

_Qu'une ombre de la rue..._

And I don't mean just you, either. The other girls, the web girls, the fire girls, the Mage's girls, they don't recognize me. -Oh, yeah, you're one of the Drummer's, aren't you? One of the priests? You do the bars, right?

Hah.

So who are you on the ground?

A shrug. Very articulate. I think... I think you don't know either, hmm?

Well, this will be your chance to find out.

_Comme quoi l'existence_

_Ça vous donne toutes les chances_

_Pour les reprendre après..._

If not now, when? Leave your hoop for a bit and come discover the rest of us. You can't live forever up there. It consumes you until you're nothing but a wisp of dancing wind. And nobody will love the wind.

Wow, I'm waxing poetical, aren't I?

_Allez, venez, milord!_

_Vous avez l'air d'un môme!_

_Laissez-vous faire, milord,_

_Venez dans mon royaume._

Come on. Come with me. I'll take care of you down here, you broody little boy. Even if I'm nobody. I'll show you how we can enjoy ourselves.

Broken hearts heal, y'know. You'll...

Love again.

Hah.

_Regardez-moi, milord_

_Vous ne m'avez jamais vue..._

_...Mais vous pleurez, milord?_

_Ça je l'aurais jamais cru!_

...Come here.

It's okay.

...You _are_ warm.

Thanks.

_Eh bien, voyons, milord!_

_Souriez-moi, milord!_

_...Mieux que ça! Un petit effort..._

_Voilà, c'est ça!_

AaaaahC'mon.

Come on! Smile at me!

Oh my god, he can crack a smile. Who'da thought. Ahh, jeez, now you're slipping back into that broody-boy look. Smile!

See, that's better.

_Allez, riez, milord!_

_Allez, chantez, milord!_

_Mais oui, dansez, milord!_

Come on! Get up! If you're so damn warm, give that coat back to me. Let's dance, warm ourselves up.

See, you're smiling at me. Am I really that funny? Yes, I am that funny? Laugh, then! Smile, laugh! Show yourself to be a regular human!

I have some music in a box, here, let me turn it on...

Dance with me! We will have _fun_ if it kills us! Come on. No past, no future, no regrets, just you and me, in the middle of the night. There are worse things in life than this.

...You may be a wonderful hoop artist, but you are a _dorky_ dancer.

Yes, that was a compliment.

...

A/N: ...Does this even make sense? Please tell me. This is the first time I've ever written a songfic, besides which it's 12:30 in the morning, so this probably came out nothing like I think it did. And all questions are answerable upon request, as usual.

If you Google 'Milord lyrics', the second hit has an English translation next to each French line. That may help a bit. I didn't feel like using the translated song.


End file.
